


Blood makes relatives.

by Jackeline Harkness (Jackeline_Harkness)



Series: Survival [8]
Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Alcohol, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Avengers Family, Family Secrets, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-27
Updated: 2016-05-27
Packaged: 2018-07-10 12:22:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6984883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jackeline_Harkness/pseuds/Jackeline%20Harkness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some secrets should stay buried for all eternity. Some truths hurt more than the most horrible thing one's mind could come up with.</p><p>Still, Bucky is determined to find out some things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blood makes relatives.

**Blood makes relatives.**

Steve stepped into the penthouse, and the scent made his senses shoot into high alert.

The episodes of self-doubt and feelings of worthlessness that he’d witnessed were bad enough to break his heart in a thousand shards, but he’d heard from Pepper and Rhodes that they were nothing compared to Tony’s worst days. He’d heard the stories, sad that he hadn’t been there when it’d happened, and glad that Tony was doing so much better now. So, the strong scent of alcohol made him think the worst, made his heart clench and his mind race trying to come up with a way to comfort the love of his life. Of course, that was just a fraction of a second, before his brain caught up and registered that, one, he’d just left an overexcited but sober –if slightly sleep-deprived – Tony at the workshop a few floors below and, two, that the man sitting on his couch in front of a coffee table littered with bottles, wasn’t his lover.

“Bucky?”

The brunette didn’t turn around or anything, but the way his shoulders sagged was indication enough that he’d heard him. Steve walked around the piece of furniture so he could face his best friend.

“Buck, are you alright?” he asked, although the answer was pretty obvious.

Bucky shook his head.

“Did Rumlow…?”

“He didn’t do anything,” the sniper said, as if the glare he’d shot him hadn’t been enough to stop his words.

“Ok,” he sat next to him, close enough to be supportive, but not enough to touch. “Did you get into a fight with him?”

“No,” he took another long swig of the bottle, apparently annoyed that it took so damn much alcohol for him to feel even a slight buzz. “I probably will when I get back, though.”

“What happened?” and he put a hand on his shoulder, like they used to do to each other when they were just boys.

Bucky’s brows furrowed over eyes that were once again stormy. He took a long time to take another gulp of liquor, and Steve didn’t press.

“Do you remember why we went to war in the first place? Regardless of all the shit that came afterwards… do you remember the reason?”

“Yeah,” Steve said simply, because they both knew the feeling of wanting to help make the world a better place. He didn’t need to explain it.

“It didn’t work, did it? We failed.”

“Well, the world might never be the perfect place we’d like it to be… but it sure could be worse,” this, Steve was familiar with. It was the same thing all of them told each other whenever the doubts about what they were doing with their lives bubbled to the surface.

There was silence for a while, and the brunette only nodded. Steve took the bottle when Bucky offered it. If Bucky needed indecent amounts of alcohol to feel slightly affected, it was downright impossible for Steve to get drunk on normal liquor. Still, it was the sentiment that counted, and Bucky appreciated it.

“Brock always wanted a family,” Bucky said after a while, and Steve frowned. Was that the problem? Had Rumlow said something to Bucky? Was Bucky afraid that he wasn’t enough for the ex-STRIKE commander?

“Things are different now,” Steve started, unable to keep the frown off his face. “You could get married, now. Adoption is also possible, and Tony’s lawyers…” he trailed off, because Bucky was smiling now, and although the small smile was a bit sad, it was also hopeful.

“Maybe one day. But that’s not what I meant.”

Steve gave him a questioning look.

“He’s longed for a family his whole life… even if he’d rather have his teeth pulled off than admit it. So I suggested a few weeks ago that we could try and track his family down. He refused, said that he wasn’t all that eager to find out about people who’d probably died years ago, anyway. But I did some research and I found that some people have actually found and met their lost families after long years… so I thought that maybe I could at least find his ma… that maybe she’d be happy to hear about him… that maybe she’d want to meet him. And I admit I was curious, too.”

Steve sat there, nodding sympathetically.

“I succeeded. I found Brock’s family… not just his ma.”

The blond’s eyebrows shot up.

“And? Are they still alive? Are they ok?”

“They are,” he looked pained.

“What happened, then? They didn’t want to meet him?”

“I don’t know if they would. But more important, I don’t know if Brock should meet them… I don’t know if he should even _know_ about them…”

“Why? Weren’t you…? Are they terrible people or something?”

Bucky let out a short, bitter laugh.

“You know, Brock once said that he was pretty sure that his ma had been some teenaged drug addict, that most likely she didn’t even know who his father was. He even went as far as saying that she’d most likely died of an overdose a long time ago, so there would be little point in trying to track her down.”

“Was he right?” Steve ventured.

“Jesus, no. He was dead wrong, Steve, and it’s so much worse.”

“Worse?”

Bucky nodded, and his eyes looked a bit too bright.

“Brock’s parents are together, married… have two more children, both younger than Brock. They’re not… they’re well off. _Very_ well off.”

“Was Brock kidnapped or…?”

The pain in Bucky’s eyes made Steve’s heart break.

“No, Steve. They gave him up. They gave him up because they had problems in their relationship or some bullshit like that, and that bastard was sure that Brock wasn’t his. Natasha helped me out a bit,” he answered the question in his best friend’s face, a hand dismissing that as unimportant before he continued. “Brock went through hell even as a young child because the assholes that were supposed to care for him thought it wasn’t convenient for them to have him at the time he was born…” his voice broke, and the angry and pained tears finally fell from his eyes.

“You haven’t told him,” Steve realized.

“Of course not. I might’ve been Hydra’s best assassin, but even I’m not that cruel.”

“What are you gonna do?”

“Drink with you?” he gave him a crooked, unhappy smile, and raised his bottle in a silent toast.

Steve returned the gesture.

They simply drank in silence for long minutes, until Steve spoke again.

“You know, things might get better,” he paused. “Someone once said that blood makes people relatives; but it is love and loyalty which make families. Maybe it’s too soon for Brock to understand that… but if he’s with you, I guess he’ll eventually understand that the Avengers are more than a team of misfits.”

This time, Bucky’s smile was a lot better, a little more like the one Steve was used to seeing on his face.

***

Brock had found that, when he wasn’t bed-ridden due to injuries, sleeping off the exhaustion of a brutal mission, or on high alert and fearing for his life, he really enjoyed cooking. It was also something he could take an experimental approach on, fuck up, clean up and try again with no more consequences than having to ask Jarvis to restock some ingredients. No one got demoted, no one got killed off and buried in an unmarked grave, no one got a price put on their head, and no one had to flee the continent with a fake ID. It could be done in the privacy of their apartment, away from the Avengers’ curious, well-intentioned, borderline-hostile, and/or protective looks.

A tiny part of him, one he didn’t even allow himself to think about, enjoyed the cooking even more when it was for two, in what he could finally call home.

As things were, he’d just finished sticking a new experiment in the oven when James stumbled in. He didn’t look too bad, if a tiny bit shaken, but he smelled as if a truck loaded with booze had wrecked on top of him.

“Hey,” he greeted, and approached slowly. “You ok?”

“Yeah,” and he didn’t sound too bad, either, just tired.

“You sure?”

“Yeah. I was with Steve… digging up shit from the past and having a couple of drinks.”

Brock’s lifted brow made a strange combination with the caring, almost worried look on the rest of his face.

“Or a couple hundred,” he amended with a shrug of metal shoulder and a crooked smile.

Brock snorted, and covered the few steps that separated them. James went into his arms willingly, with a bit of a relieved smile as he melted against his lover’s powerful frame, grateful for the closeness even as he thought about how ironic it was that it was Brock offering comfort to him.

Long minutes went by as they stood there, wrapped in a tight embrace and alternating kisses with simply leaning against each other. Brock’s fingers occasionally playing with James’ hair.

A bell dinged.

“That’s mushroom chicken,” Brock informed him with a peck to his lips before finally stepping away from his lover. “Wanna see if it turned out edible?”

“I could eat,” James said with that smile that made Brock think of a smug cat.

“You can always eat.”

James shrugged, and followed him to the kitchen, maybe staring at his butt just a bit.

It turned out, mushroom chicken was a total success in the first try.

**Author's Note:**

> That's actually one of the principles I live by: blood might make you relatives, but it's loyalty and love that make you family.
> 
> I'd like to know if you'd like to have the thing with Brock's biological family explored more deeply, or if you'd rather see it forgotten. I would really really appreciate your input here, since I have to decide where to focus my energies and little writing time on!
> 
> I thank you in advance if you've read this series so far. I greatly appreciate kudos, and... comments always make my day! 
> 
> Also, I happen to make a mean mushroom chicken :3


End file.
